


Everywhere and Nowhere

by Gem_Gem



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not a Doctor.” He said. “And you’re not a policeman either, so what are you doing with a police box?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everywhere and Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> I started this with a friend of mine. We were talking about Doctor Who and Sherlock, and I wanted to write a crossover of some sorts...so I did. It started as a sort of crack fanfiction. My friend throwing out a million and one ideas, some of them downright silly, and we did stick with one idea, but now, looking back, I'm not sure I'm as keen as I once was...
> 
> Therefore, I have no clue where this can go really, so I'm sorry in advance if this is not updated much. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of it so far!

Sherlock looked up at the beehive with a smile, and with his pockets full of vials he jumped and grasped the branch above him, heaving up with a soft grunt. There were four branches in total between him and the beehive. Sherlock wasn’t stupid, no matter what Mycroft said, he wasn’t going to touch the hive, he wasn’t even going to be that close, just close enough to watch and listen, close enough to collect the honey dripping down on the branch below. 

As Sherlock climbed he peeked back across the field at his house, no one had noticed he had gone yet, but it wouldn’t be long until his brother would find out he wasn’t in his room. Sherlock looked back up at the hive and with a huff of effort he pulled himself up on the branch just beneath with a wide grin, shuffling along to collect samples of the honey. He watched the bees coming and going, sitting up to see more, and the branch under him creaked at the adjust of weight, jerked, and then snapped loudly. Sherlock barely had time to grab hold of the jagged half still attached to the tree before he was falling.

The world span and twisted as he fell, his body catching a few more branches on the way down, ripping a hole in his trousers and scratching a line across his shin. Sherlock closed his eyes and wondered briefly if his brother would be the one to find his body, before two arms caught him a few feet from the floor.

“Whoa! That was close wasn’t it?” The man attached to the arms exclaimed as he set Sherlock down and knelt to be at eye level. “You okay?”

Sherlock nodded after a moment of looking at the man; though crouched, Sherlock could tell he was tall with a slim frame; his hair was thick and brown, spiked stylishly from his head; his skin was pale with a scattering of freckles and the eyes behind the black framed glasses were dark brown and wide with concern. The brown suit the man wore was neat but well worn and creased from movement, and the converse on his feet were faded and shabby. 

“What were you doing?” The man was looking up with a furrowed brow.

“Where did you come from?” Sherlock asked.

The man looked back at him and shrugged, though his eyes shifted over Sherlock’s shoulder fleetingly, “Well, you know, here and there.”

Sherlock turned around to look and craned his neck to stare up at the blue box with a look of surprise, “Where did that come from?”

“What, that? That was there the whole time,” The man said dismissively as he straightened and looked around.

“No it wasn’t,” Sherlock snapped irritably, and wandered over to look at it. “This wasn’t here, and neither were you. I’d have known. I notice things. I would’ve seen you.”

“How old are you?”

Sherlock sneaked a glance at the man before he answered, “Six. Where did this come from? Who are you? And what’s that thing in your pocket?” Sherlock pointed at the man’s torso.

The man, who was smiling at Sherlock, lifted his eyebrows and patted his suit jacket, “I’m the Doctor.”

Sherlock frowned and squinted his eyes in confusion, looking him up and down, “You’re not a Doctor.” He said. “And you’re not a policeman either, so what are you doing with a police box?”

“You should go home, your parent’s are probably looking for you,” The man said conversely. “No more climbing trees for bees. Heh, trees for bees.”

“Not until you tell me how you and this… box came here,” Sherlock replied, crossing his arms. “You can’t have appeared out of thin air.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because that’s impossible! That doesn’t make sense,” Sherlock explained with a furrowed brow as the man smiled widely, ruffled Sherlock’s curls - much to Sherlock’s annoyance - and stepped around him to the box.

“Impossible. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that word?” The man asked, grinning down at him and leaning casually against the police box. “A lot. Too many to count. Well, not exactly, just I haven’t - counted that is. I could have. Perhaps I should have? Kept a record of it. It’s got to be well into the billions by now. Although, they normally say it when they’ve seen inside.”

Sherlock blinked and then looked at the box again, “Why? What’s inside?”

The man’s grin widened, “Heard that a lot too.”

Sherlock, intensely curious, was going to ask again but turned around at the sound of his brother’s voice. He glanced at the man and then rushed around the trunk of the tree to watch his brother jog up towards him.

“Sherlock Holmes! What have you been told about running off? Mummy is furious and out of her mind with worry, come here!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, turning back to the man to find him gone. Looking around, Sherlock took a step towards the police box then jumped back when a light on its roof pulsed and a strange noise started up. Slowly the box became opaque and then disappeared from sight completely, the noise going with it. Sherlock dropped his gaze to the square imprint on the grass with wide and stunned eyes, hardly even reacting when his brother caught him at the wrist.


End file.
